


Firsts

by jaygirl987



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Firsts, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Sappy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaygirl987/pseuds/jaygirl987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of firsts. Ranges from sad to sappy, funny and tender. Just little drabbles building up the characters of Soul Eater a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**Maka**

 

* * *

 

 

 

  The first time she truly cried in front of anyone, she was 15.

  Maka had blinked back the tears of anger, confusion and resentment as she'd stuffed the returned letter to her mother she'd mailed out last week into the pocket of her black coat. She'd pushed the door of the apartment complex open a little more roughly than she'd intended, her head down and eyes trained upon the pavement. It was no wonder that she'd almost barreled into a group of people.

  That group of people being her weapon, Death the Kid and (God help her) Black*Star. She'd hastily thrown an apology over her shoulder, disgusted at the feeling of wetness already coating her lashes against her best efforts.

  "Yo-where's the fire, twiggy?!?" The obnoxious blue-haired idiot from her childhood had called out to her, but she'd ignored it and picked up speed, her boots thundering against the pavement as she sought the shelter of solace, somewhere quiet and peaceful to allow her to get it all out of her system in privacy.

  Maka had rounded the corner and ran until it felt like her lungs were going to give out, finally hitting upon the edge of forest that the DWMA students used for training purposes. Leaning heavily against the thick trunk of an old and worn tree, she'd tried to catch her breath, taking heaving gulps and clutching her side. After gaining a small semblance of her former self back, she'd balled her hand into a fist against the rough bark, feeling it dig into her skin, having left her gloves in her locker at school. She'd bit her lip and she tried not to snivel like a child as she'd pulled the crumpled envelope from her pocket and stared down at it like some alien traitor.

  "Oi- Pigtails..."

  Maka froze, denial at the annoyingly familiar voice addressing her. Not now. Why? What did the universe have against her?

  She'd tried to ignore the blue-haired ninja standing a few feet behind her, dressed in his street clothes, not even slightly out of breath due to his intense training schedule, but it was a moot point. She knew from years of experience that avoiding and ignoring him didn't erase him.

  "Wanna talk about it?"

  She'd gripped the envelope balled up in her first angrily. "No." She'd spat out her denial like a vicious poison as she'd winced at how warbled her normally steady voice sounded.

  "Look-" Black*Star grimaced as he rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. What the fuck was he supposed to say; sorry you're a girl and have to deal with a shit load more problems than me? He was already praying that it didn't have anything to do with her period when she'd cut him off.

  "Save it."

  He'd frowned at the sound of her voice. She was pissed, alright- that much was clear, but he'd never seen Maka so upset before. The fact that Kid had urged someone to go after her meant that he'd seen something urgent in her wavelength with his freaky shinigami vision that he and Soul didn't possess, and Black*Star had slapped the white-haired scythe on the chest before volunteering to go after her and let her vent about whatever test she'd probably gotten a B on, or some shit...

  He was rapidly realizing that maybe he was underqualified for this particular job, and wondering if it was too late to throw in the towel and turn around to summon Soul when he'd noticed something clenched in her fist.

  He'd blinked curiously at the familiar girly stationary and recognized it from the stuff that Maka had been carrying around with her at school last week before she'd plopped down onto the bench at the basketball court and began writing. He'd assumed that she'd denied playing just to study, but now he was starting to see the whole picture clearly...

  It was a letter to her mom. He could just make out Kami's name in Maka's nerdy handwriting before she'd squeezed it shut even more tightly, her hand shaking with the effort. Black*Star's gaze flew to her rigid back, taking in the way she was breathing shakily.

  Fuck. WAAAAAAYY underqualified... His real parents were dead- what words could he possibly say to make her feel better? There was nothing that could be said. Instead, he decided that perhaps action should be taken- words weren't exactly his strong suit, anyhow.

  Maka was swallowing thickly and preparing to order the intrusive asshole to leave her alone when a heavy hand spun her around. Before she could even gasp or form a syllable, she'd found herself crushed against an unyielding chest, and muscular arms wrapped around her somewhat awkwardly but surely. Maka's face scrunched up as his voice reached her ears, low and rumbling as he murmured, " 'M sorry, Maka. Her loss."

  Tears had spilled down her cheeks at long last, hot and wet as her aching fist finally released her rejected letter, allowing it to tumble to the ground as numb hands wrapped around him tightly. Maka had wailed (embarrassingly) loudly as the overwhelming release washed over her, allowed Black*Star's well-meaning embrace to shield her from the weight of the outside world as she'd pressed her forehead into his shoulder, her own shoulders shaking under her wracking sobs.

  Why wouldn't her mother talk to her? The only thing keeping Maka hanging on we're cryptic postcards sent out a few times a year, whenever her mother had felt the random urge to send something to remind her only child that she was alive and not around. It was almost cruel, to dangle her existence just out of reach for Maka to leap for eagerly over and over, only to be denied the affection that she so desperately needed. Girls needed their mothers, and Maka was no exception.

  Try as she might, though, she could never hate her mother...could she? She was a great woman, and after everything that had happened, she deserved a little soul-searching, she supposed. Maka had repeated this to herself and felt the stale words hastily slapping a sloppy bandage to her raw wounds to hold her over for who only knew how much longer. For now, it would have to do.

  She'd hiccuped and stammered an apology to Black*Star, threatening to kick his ass if he ever mentioned this to anybody, including Tsubaki.

  He'd only chuckled and held her a little tighter before ruffling her hair and murmuring, "Yeah, like they'd believe me anyway..."

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**Tsubaki**

 

* * *

 

 

 

  The first time that she was truly sick away from home, she was eighteen, and it felt like she'd been hit by a bus. Or Asura's fist.

  She would not complain. She would not say a word. She refused to be beaten by a mere virus. She was strong! She had demon weapon blood coursing through her veins and a body that was literally made of steel!

  She was going to die.

  The infection festering its way through her blood appeared to be the fire that was setting up residence in her chest. What _was_ this strange plague that seemed to have thrown her normally invincible body for a loop?

  Tsubaki had taken a deep rattling breath and blinked heavily as she'd fought the dizziness clouding her vision, walking slowly behind her meister as they'd headed down the cobblestone paved street to meet up with their friends at the park. Her head had felt heavy and foreign as she'd trailed her fingers along the rough brick buildings to aid her in keeping a small semblance of balance. She'd felt so foggy and discombobulated, weak and so far gone, her self-diagnosis of fever confirmed as a chill had swept over her body, out of place among the sweltering Nevada heat. She'd covered her mouth with her clammy hand as she'd coughed, wincing at the residual burning in her chest. The sting had started to worsen as the morning had gone on.

  Black*Star had walked on ahead of her, oblivious to her pain and suffering, calling out to their friends, waving his arm excitedly as he made his way over to Soul, punching him in the arm lightly and inquiring as to how his last mission ended.

  Tsubaki had leaned heavily against the cool wall, trying to organize the scattered contents of her mind. Her focus was gone, and she'd desperately wished to be at home in bed. She'd shivered as she'd tucked a long messy strand of loose hair behind her ear tiredly.

  "Tsubaki, you look terrible!"

  The ninja weapon had opened her eyes slowly, unable to remember closing them. She'd tried to smile at Maka's concerned statement, but it had felt weak and incredibly unconvincing, even to her.. "Oh, I'm okay. Just tired," she'd closed her eyes again, only to open them at the sensation of something cool touching her fevered flesh. It had felt incredible. Black*Star was pressing his forearm against her forehead, his face scrunched up in thought as he'd tried to measure her temperature.

  It had been more than apparent that he'd had no idea what he was doing, however, as Maka had quickly shoved him to the side while removing a leather glove with her teeth, mumbling about "stupid useless clueless men" while throwing the discarded worn leather into her weapon's chest. She'd shaken her hand a little before placing the back of it against Tsubaki's flushed skin, clucking her tongue worriedly before announcing that the ninja weapon was "burning up."

  Tsubaki's breath had felt hot against her lips as she'd breathed heavily and wheezed through her mouth tiredly. She'd watched through a dazed haze as Maka had viciously scolded Black*Star for dragging Tsubaki outside in her current state, ignoring the ninja weapon's weak protests over her shoulder of "being fine." Black*Star had begun to argue back, asking how he was supposed to know when his weapon never mentioned her health?

  Both meisters had been too busy arguing to notice Soul drape his leather jacket around Tsubaki's slender shoulders gently, urging her to wrap her arm around him and lean some of her weight upon him as he'd turned her around and headed for her apartment.

  "I'm fine, Soul, really-" she'd been cut off as she'd stumbled lightly against him, his arm encircling her waist to steady her as she'd fought the dizzy spell that had suddenly overcome her. Another cough had wracked her frame, her shoulders hunched in as she'd fought to catch her breath. Her throat had been tight and her chest had felt like it was on fire.

  "Humor me," he'd growled lowly as he'd guided her down the uneven cobblestone street, leaving Maka and Black*Star behind to bicker with one another heatedly.

  "You wanna go, pigtails? I'll kick your ass- I don't give a shit if you're a girl!" Black*Star had crouched into a fighting position, shaking his hands loose as he'd bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. How dare anyone insinuate that he didn't pay attention to his weapon? All powerful and mighty beings never ignored their followers!

  Maka had rolled her eyes before asking Soul to back her up, her frown leaving her face as her expression blanked at the silence, finally whirling around and taking heed of the weapons, who were already two blocks away. She'd pinked and called after them, running to catch up with Black*Star on her heels.

 

* * *

 

 

  They'd made it home at last, and after several useless minutes of croaked weak protests and modest refusals, Tsubaki had allowed Maka to assist her in getting comfortable in bed, admitting to herself that it did feel nice to have someone take care of her for once. She'd fought her heavily drooping eyelids for as long as she'd been able, shivering beneath the bedding that Maka had tucked around her, succumbing to exhaustion at last.

 

* * *

 

 

  She'd barely gotten what felt like minutes (but what was most likely hours) of sleep, when she was awakened by the sensation of someone or something pulling at her clothing hastily. Tsubaki had coughed into her hand, whimpering at the fire burning its way through her chest. She had fought to regain her breath as she peered at the faces swimming above her.

  "We **need** Stein!"

  "No way! Don't need that creep dissecting my weapon!"

  "Black*Star, quit being stubborn! She's sick, for Death's sake!"

  Tsubaki had recognized Maka's concerned voice as she'd tried to sit up, only to feel someone pushing her back down against the damp sheets again. "Don't strain yourself, Nakatsukasa." Must be Soul. He always called her by her last name. Why was it so damn hot in there? Her fever had to be close to breaking at long last. If only she could focus and speak.

  "Her temperature's almost 104, Black*Star! That's ridiculously high! She needs medicine and fluids!" She'd wanted to tell Maka that she didn't think that she could swallow anything with her throat hurting so much, but her mouth had forgotten its previous abilities in the ancient art of speech. She'd whimpered and then sighed at the sensation of something wet and cool being placed against her forehead, her vision clearing enough for her to register that Soul was still frowning down at her in concern while the two meisters had fought off to the side.

  "And I'm telling you, he's not touching her!"

  "You're being stupid and selfish!"

  She'd tried to sit up and defend her meister and his reasonings, but she'd had no strength and no real will to move. Even budging slightly had taken effort and willpower that she simply did not possess, and it was with another small sigh of relief at the sensation of the cool washcloth that Black*Star's frown had intensified, and his fierce gaze had snapped back to her over Maka's shoulder.

  He'd seemed to have made up his mind as another cough, more painful sounding than the rest, had washed over her weak frame like a tidal wave, tears forming in her eyes from the pain it had left in its wake. "Fine-go get the quack! I'll watch her." She'd had no more strength to fight back. She could faintly hear her meister barking orders at Maka again as Soul had wrung the washcloth in the bowl once more, the water sounding like a waterfall roaring in her ears before he had tossed it to her meister.

  People were calling her name, urging her to respond, to just say something, anything, but she'd been unable to even open her eyes. Tsubaki had coughed and gasped for breath, the exhaustion seeping into her through every crack in the foundation of her very being. She'd never been this sick in her life.

  The thundering of feet had echoed in the void of her muddled thoughts, the slamming of the front door silencing everything all at once, sounding alarmingly like a death sentence as she'd tried to swallow, only to wince at the pain in her throat.

  Black*Star had crouched down beside his weapon, tilting his head to study her as she'd slowly blinked up at him blearily through a half-lidded gaze. The fever was disorienting her perception and was messing with her consciousness, dangling the alluring temptation of sleep just out of reach. She could see his mouth forming words, but the only sound penetrating her hazy world had been the beating of her heart and the rattling in her chest.

  Dizzy. So dizzy. Maybe if she'd rested her eyes again for just a few more minutes...? She'd wanted to respond to her meister's commands...

  She'd had the sensation that she was weightless and flying as the shivering had commenced once more. The fever had been stubborn and refused to break. She'd opened her eyes and the world around her had tilted and whirled. Tsubaki had opened her mouth to speak, but she could only slur her meister's name as a blurry image of his wild blue hair had danced in her peripheral vision. He'd been shouting, she'd  thought; it had been laced with panic and had echoed in a dull throbbing in her mind as she'd felt her muscles beginning to let go and surrender to the heat.

  She'd come crashing back to the present with a gasp that had triggered another smoldering cough in her chest. Tsubaki had caught her breath and confusedly blinked water out of her eyes, finally able to focus long enough to come to the realization that she was no longer in bed. She'd stared at the shower head beating down upon her as if it had been an alien, turning her head slightly to confirm that she hadn't succumbed to madness, only to realize that someone had been shaking her shoulders and calling her name.

  Oh- her meister had come to administer her last rites. How nice of him.

  Black*Star's brow had been furrowed in worry and concern, the lukewarm water trailing down his skin as he'd pressed his palm against her skin to gauge her temperature, brushing his knuckles against her temple to push her hair out of her eyes as she'd continued to stare up at him emptily. He'd croaked her name, eyes wide with apprehension, and Tsubaki had realized with a startled clarity that there had been what appeared to be tears mixed in with the water. She'd reached up to cup his face, smiling gently and reassuring him that she'd been alright. She'd thanked him for the shower; it had felt lovely, even through her clothes.

  The apartment door had slammed, followed by shouts of their names, loud footsteps approaching them before the bathroom door was thrown wide, exposing the partners to the frantic noise that had instantly fallen silent as Soul, Maka and Professor Stein drank in the sight of Black*Star cradling Tsubaki in their shower, both soggy and fully clothed as the weapon had slowly regained her senses thanks to the cool water drenching her skin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  She had been diagnosed with influenza. They'd figured that she had contracted it about two days ago, and it had been severe. Black*Star's quick action had helped to curb the fever's maliciousness, and it had broken at long last. Soul and Maka had made a run for supplies as Stein had administered fluids and drugs to the ninja weapon.

  Settled in bed and feeling somewhat human again after a round of medication and some dry clothes, Black*Star had taken Stein's scribbled instructions for her care and had treated it as if it was the holy grail. It had been apparent that he'd blamed himself for allowing her to even contract the illness in the first place; it was a meister's job to make sure that their weapon stayed in tip top shape, and godly beings weren't supposed to fuck up so royally. Stein had assured him that there had been no way for him to prevent it completely; she'd picked it up through exposure of some kind, and flu shots only did so much in terms of prevention.

  Black*Star had seen to her needs for the remainder of the evening, long after everyone had gone and their once bustling apartment was quiet and empty. Tsubaki had drifted in and out of consciousness, but each time she had awoken, he'd been there by her bedside and made her rehydrate. She'd assumed that he would rest at some point, but he had been stubbornly relentless. He'd continued to monitor her temperature, and had only been satisfied that she was back to herself when she'd thanked him and apologized for her weakness.

  He'd merely scoffed, "Tch... I don't associate with weaklings- you're good." He'd looked tired, but had smiled brightly all the same. He'd patted her head affectionately as she'd smiled up at him.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**Soul**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

  The first time he came to realize just how tricky lube could be, he was 16 and staring at the kitchen ceiling while trying to catch his breath.

  Soul had groaned, eyes slamming shut in pain and shock as he'd attempted to figure out just what in the hell had happened. What. The. Fuck-?!

  He'd tried to roll to his side, but the pain in his back had left him feeling momentarily paralyzed. Fear had swept over him briefly as images had flooded his mind in a monsoon of karmic retribution, recalling the commercials on TV that had showed elderly people falling and being unable to get up, stating that they'd 'wished that they'd had an emergency alert button when they'd taken their tumble.'

  He'd used to scoff at those poor people. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Literally. It was his punishment for his youthful pride. That, and the fact that their roommate was a sexually deviant little kitten molded from the very clay of chaos and baked in the fires of hell.

  Soul had turned his head, lifting the back of his sore skull off of slippery linoleum to stare down at his shiny fingertips, the perplexed and befuddled scowl on his face deepening into outrageous fury as heated crimson eyes had registered the familiar overturned bottle by his feet. It was almost empty, and Soul had felt the itching desire to shift his arm into a blade and have an urban cat safari hunt at his earliest convenience.

  The useless and rather inappropriate bottle of lubricant that their feline "friend" had gifted him with earlier that morning had mocked him quietly as Soul's gaze had swept over the glistening floor, incredulously inquiring as to how one little bottle could hold so much blatant destruction.

  Soul had barely gotten to finish his late breakfast earlier that morning while Blair had droned on and on about some new product samples that she'd been gifted with. Apparently, it had paid to know the right people. He'd crunched away at his cereal listlessly, barely listening while trying to clear the lazy fog hazing up his mind while contemplating whether or not he should bother to do anything on that slow Saturday morning. Blair had held up a few rather risqué pieces of lingerie with squeals of delight before stating that she'd had something special for "scythe boy" too. Soul had stood and rinsed his cereal bowl in the sink, ignoring the witchy animal's squeals of delight as she'd dug through her bags of flimsy lingerie for his poor unsuspecting meister, idly wondering just how high Maka's voice would pitch at the sight of the garments while scratching at his scar lazily and yawning before turning around to face Blair once more. His yawn had been rudely interrupted with a tiny thump against his chest, and his left hand had barely caught the offending "present" before his wide eyes had realized just what it was and his face had reddened to seriously uncool levels.

  He'd gaped like a fish at the smiling cat before snapping out of his trance with a rather eloquent splutter before he'd turned on his heel to head for sanctuary. What was wrong with her? He didn't need that- that- _stuff_! He'd chucked the bottle back at her over his shoulder before slamming his bedroom door in her face, trying to block out her purring voice (stating that she'd purchased it to assist him with his first time) with the sound of his grinding teeth.

  Damn her.

  The frisky feline must've allowed the returned gift to sail right past her, the impact upon hitting the unrelenting floor causing the cheap bottle to break open and spill across the once clean surface, left behind to be discovered by the scythe on his way to get a snack from the kitchen a few hours later.

  He'd supposed that in another life it would've been almost comical to see his feet fly out from underneath him, his back hitting the floor with about as much grace as a sack of flour, knocking the wind out of him and causing stars to swim behind his eyelids.

  However, he'd had bigger problems. The first having been that he simply could not seem to get any traction in order to regain any semblance of footing. The second, that he couldn't seem to decide which technique he was going to use to skin Blair alive with first.

  He'd just begun to register the fact that Maka was going to be furious (seeing as how she'd just mopped the kitchen the day before), when the sound of keys jingling in the lock on the front door had caused panic to swirl in his chest for an entirely different reason. Soul had scrambled like an octopus wearing roller skates, altogether failing to do more than barely roll over onto his side when the front door had opened, and in had strolled his meister with a few books from the library (because of _course_ that was where she spent her free time, the nerd) tucked under her arm.

  Soul had barely managed to call out a "Maka, wait-!" when her voice (which had been calling out his name) cut off with a surprised squeal as her own back hit the tile with a squeaky huff, her own grunt of pain causing her weapon to wince sympathetically. Yeah, he'd been there.

  Maka had groaned deeply and rolled over onto her side to face Soul, her eyes shut tightly and teeth gnashed together as her hand had rubbed at the back of her head. She'd slowly pried her lids open to stare dazedly and confusedly at the strange slickness now coating her own hand, when her gaze had widened to finally allow her to focus and take in the state of her scythe, who was waving at her somewhat sheepishly before grumbling, "Tried to warn ya..."

  Maka had scrunched up her face in confusion as she'd set her palm flat against the surface to heave herself up into a sitting position, a question poised on the tip of her tongue, only to wind up with her cheek smacking against cold and slippery linoleum in a matter of seconds. She'd gasped in surprise and discomfort, green eyes flashing dangerously at him, questioning and angry.

  "Cat," he'd grit out before trying to use his sleeved elbow as a buffer to lean his weight upon. The industrial strength lubricant proved to be quite the rascally opponent, however, seeping through worn and thin cotton and providing absolutely no assistance. He'd grunted as he'd fallen back to where he'd started, faintly noting that the technician beside him was faring no better.

  "Why in the _hell_ -?" Maka had grunted as her hand had once again lost any small amount of purchase it had deluded itself into thinking it'd had. "Uugh-!"

  " _Told_ ya-" A heavy grunt. "That stupid-" he'd growled and grumbled as he'd worked himself upright into a sitting position, his lazy abs protesting loudly as he'd finally managed the feat. " **Cat**!" Success! All he'd needed was to be able to grab onto something...

  "Is this... what I think it is?" Maka had asked him with a hesitant and venom-laced tone, Soul's shoulders hunching slightly with an almost guilt as he'd eyed her over his shoulders, her thumb and forefinger smearing the gooey disgust-a-substance around with morbid curiosity that made him shudder.

  "Whadda _you_ think?" He'd growled lowly, because thinking about his uptight and prudish school-girl meister playing with lube did funny things to his dirty mind, and he'd needed to not think about it. Facing forward again, his eyes had fallen upon the kitchen table, and it had shone like a beacon of hope before him.

  Maka had muttered something in her disgust, but Soul had been too focused to agree with her at the moment. Lips pursed slightly in concentration, Soul had pulled forth years of ice skating with his brother to the forefront of his brain as he'd ever so slowly tucked his bare feet beneath him to try to attempt to stand.

  He'd almost face planted, but had righted himself in the nick of time. Standing slowly, he'd felt Maka's eyes on his back as he'd held his arms out to his sides, feeling like a tight-rope walker as he'd placed one foot in front of the other. He'd slid just enough to make him wobble, "NNGH- fucking- _**shit**_ -!" but had been able to stand perfectly still, his breath stuck in his chest as he'd heard Maka's indrawn gasp. After much jostling and balance gaining, he'd managed to haphazardly slide his way over to the kitchen table, his triumphant smirk quickly wiped away as his feet suddenly remembered what was beneath them, and he'd flung his arms out across the tabletop in order to anchor himself, "Stupid **CAT**!"

  Maka had huffed a few times, squirming around while trying to gain any semblance of traction beneath her, only to come up short and vent her frustration with a raw growl that had Soul arching a brow in curiosity as he'd glanced at her over his shoulder. That noise had never meant well. It had usually involved his technician becoming violent.

  Sure enough, Maka had rolled over onto her stomach, Soul watching her with barely contained wonder as she'd army crawled (and slid) over to the solid kitchen table. "Why did she- ugh!- did she seriously have to- blegh-" Soul had extended a hand down to her, bracing his weight against their tiny table, his teeth clenched and bared with the effort of trying to assist his meister.

  "B'lieve it or not," he'd hissed as Maka's feet had slid, his balance in tattered threads as it was. "It was a gift..."

  Maka had scoffed, "Paying the light bill woulda been better-" the scrambling had started to take it's toll on her as her knees had hit the floor rather roughly. "M'Gonna kill her," Maka had huffed, squeaking as her hand had slid out from beneath Soul's grip. "Dammit!"

  Soul had wiped his hand on the fabric of his shirt before extending it out to Maka again, his feet squeaking and sliding precariously for a few moments while he'd fought to right himself. He was the rock that this flimsy little salvation was built upon, and he'd had to try to retain the foundation as best as he could; if he went down, they'd be right back where they'd started. "Too late," he'd growled as he'd gripped Maka again, hefting her up just enough so that she'd been able to wrap her arms around his waist, her shoes squealing against the lubricant as her strong legs had fought to push her upright. "Already called dibs."

  Maka had huffed as they'd stilled momentarily, her bright green eyes sparkling with determined fire as she'd eyed the ridiculously reflective trail of doom that they'd landed themselves in. She'd turned her head, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she'd tried to formulate her next move. It was apparent, however, that she'd had nothing when she'd blinked up at him owlishly and murmured, "Now what?"

  Well, shit.

  Soul had sighed, his arm tightening it's hold on her waist as he'd adjusted his grip upon the edge of the tabletop. "I, uh-" he'd huffed as his white knuckled fingers had begun to ache. "I dunno...kinda busy just tryin' to-"

  The sentence would never be finished, for Maka's sneakers had finally lost the battle, her feet giving out beneath her. She'd gasped and cried out in shock, her hands fisting themselves in the fabric of Soul's worn shirt, tugging him along with her as she'd slammed her eyes shut to brace herself for impact. Her actions had caused the material to rip as they'd tumbled down.

  Soul had managed a yell as he'd pulled the table over with them, his torso cushioning Maka's head from the floor as he'd flown backwards, his arm wrapped around her protectively as the pair had re-acquainted themselves with the lubricated tile once more.

  The sound of metal slicing through the air had been swallowed by their cries of surprise as Soul's bladed arm had sliced cleanly through their kitchen table, the halved pieces falling to either side of the pair as Soul had clutched her against him, their legs tangled as the wood had thudded loudly against the ground.

  Outstanding. Soul had groaned in frustration and irritation. His instinct to protect his meister had ruined what had probably been the nicest piece of furniture that they'd owned. Terrific.

  Maka had proceeded to completely lose her shit as he'd breathed out a sigh, much to his shock and awe, giggling and gasping for breath as she'd planted her hand against her partner's chest, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Soul had snorted with laughter a few seconds later, his eyes closed in defeat as he'd willed his blade back into his body with a flash of light. The laughter had slowed a few minutes later, and Soul had cracked open an eye to watch his meister lean forward and brush some of his hair out of his face, his hand resting against the small of her back to steady her.

  Maka had just been about to ask him if his head was okay, when in had waltzed Blair (on two legs), her wide yellow eyes blinking once at the scene before her, then twice, then a few more times before a devious smile had curled her lipstick imprinted mouth. It'd had to have looked bad: the table in ruins, Soul's shirt torn wide open, his meister almost on top of him and leaning down towards him...

  Blair's voice had been laced with a naughty innuendo as she'd purred, "Nyah scythe boy- you don't need that much! A little bit of that stuff goes a long way!" She'd winked at the pair's open-mouthed and stunned silence before giggling, "But it looks like it got the job done, huh?"

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I do not own Soul Eater.


End file.
